


The Same Old Game

by KaidaShade



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Exo Anatomy (Destiny), Fluff and Smut, Inappropriate Use of Light (Destiny), M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24838012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaidaShade/pseuds/KaidaShade
Summary: Zavala will never admit that he gets wound up, but Cayde knows the signs and they've played this game before.  He knows just how to offer some stress relief, and just how to enjoy it too.
Relationships: Cayde-6/Zavala (Destiny)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 93





	The Same Old Game

**Author's Note:**

> Same universe as Setting Sights, set sometime after Red War Blues.

Zavala is  _ the _ stereotypical Sentinel; iron-willed, stoic, supremely sensible, and utterly dedicated to defending his City. There are those who think he is unshakeable, unbreakable, unflappable, but of course Cayde knows better. Cayde knows him well enough to see through the cold, stone facade to the man beneath, and today he doesn’t like what he sees.   
  
Part of being the Vanguard Commander is having to deal with some real Traveller-damned idiots sometimes, and Cayde can tell the moment he ambles over to Zavala’s new haunt by the Tower’s railing that he’s restraining himself from hurling the man currently speaking to him straight over the edge. Normally he feels cool to be near, a soothing balm against the perpetual heat of Cayde’s Light, but today there’s a crackle to it, like stepping onto too-thin ice or out into a building storm. Someone less familiar with Zavala might not have noticed, but Cayde isn’t as stupid as everyone thinks he is.   
  
He lets his footfalls be heavy, lets Zavala hear him coming in direct contradiction of everything there is to being a Hunter, because he knows if he surprises him it might be  _ him  _ going over the railing. Zavala turns, his eyes bright and a smile fixed on his face, but Cayde isn’t fooled. He knows that look, the one that says Zavala needs an out but will never, ever admit to it aloud, so he puts on his best, literally flashiest grin and his stride turns purposeful as the source of his lover’s irritation finally notices him. Ah, Hideo. That prick. Delightful.   
  
“Heeey, Zavala, you got five minutes?” He asks, coming to rest a respectable distance away with a hand on his hip and totally blanking the Executor, “Got a bit of a situation on a strike, figured I’d ask my manager for help.”   
Zavala knows he’s lying; Ikora’s on strike duty today, and Cayde would have commed him if he’d actually needed help rather than leave his post, but his eyes flicker in understanding and he nods gravely.   
“Of course, Cayde. You can brief me on the way. My apologies, Executor, I must deal with this,” He says, offering only a polite, brief nod to the Executor’s final attempts to get his attention. Cayde doesn’t even bother to listen; the man’s full of shit at the best of times and you  _ really _ have to beat a dead horse to get Zavala riled up. He lets Zavala stride past him and falls into step a pace or so behind.   
  
Zavala’s stride doesn’t falter until they’re halfway to the hangar, alone. Cayde notices his shoulders sag and hears him sigh, barely perceptible to anything but an Exo’s augmented hearing. “You didn’t have to do that.” He remarks, his voice low. The crackle of Arc around him is more obvious now, cold and tingling, and Cayde wonders if maybe he misjudged and is now the source of Zavala’s annoyance.   
“I know. But he was driving you crazy and I  _ know _ you got better things to do today than listen to him bullshit about how you should be king or whatever.” Cayde lengthens his stride to catch up a little, trying to get a look at his face.   
“You… are not wrong.” He’s frowning like that troubles him, and Cayde reaches out a hand cautiously to touch his pauldron, once he’s sure nobody’s looking. Not because he cares who sees, but because he knows Zavala does. It tingles, which isn’t always a great sign. “It’s just been a stressful day, that’s all.”   
“Figures. You need a break, clearly.” Cayde shakes his head, lets his hand wander a little onto the back of Zavala’s neck until the Commander reaches up to stop him with a firm hand on his wrist.   
“We both have work to do.” His voice carries a warning, but Cayde knows this game by now.   
“Which will wait,” he insists, “Sure, your Ghost could totally rezz you if you had a heart attack or blew a blood vessel, but why let it get to that point when  _ I  _ could blow you instead?”   
  
Zavala doesn’t react, but Cayde sees the very tips of his ears going slightly pink and he knows he’s won, even as Zavala looks around at him with narrowed eyes. He winks playfully, flashes his mouth light a couple of times for emphasis and adds, “I’ll even let you boss me around,” just to sweeten the deal.    
Zavala rolls his eyes, but since the next words out of his mouth are “meet me at my quarters in an hour,” Cayde takes the victory.   
  
He’s being very good today, he thinks as he lets himself into Zavala’s room a few minutes early. Used the key and everything rather than picking the locks on the windows for the challenge of it. Some days what Zavala needs is Ikora’s stern but gentle domination, to be told what to do and when and to submit to someone else utterly, and other days he needs someone who he can be rough with and let himself go with, someone he can manhandle without being in total control of himself, and that’s where Cayde comes in.    
  
He strips off his armour but leaves the regular clothing on; Zavala likes the buildup, a lot of the time, and peeling Cayde out of his shirt or having him strip in his lap always seems to be a winner. He realises that he left the door unlocked as he hears the handle turn, and in the few seconds he has he arranges himself to look like his bending over to put down his folded up cloak was totally just a coincidence, that totally doesn’t make his ass look amazing in these pants. He also pretends not to notice Zavala’s approach; Zavala must know he’s faking, but it doesn’t stop him from getting both hands on his ass and groping him hard. The startle is fake but Cayde’s gasp dissolving into static is real, the heat that pools low in his belly just from that one touch unmistakeable.    
  
There’s not much to grab other than hard metal, but Zavala doesn’t seem to care. One hand stays on Cayde’s ass as the other slides up under his shirt, exploring the edges of plates with expert fingers. His touch tingles with Arc, and when he scrapes his teeth over Cayde’s neck there’s a sharp sting of it that makes his vocaliser glitch. Zavala’s not in the mood to be gentle it seems, and Cayde is just fine with that. He still squirms in his grip though, just to make Zavala press up against him and push him down into the bed in front of him, the Awoken’s chest a solid wall against his back as one of his knees forces its way between Cayde’s thighs. The fact that Zavala  _ can _ even manhandle him like this speaks of his strength, and it sends a shudder down Cayde’s spine as the Awoken gropes him.   
  
“I believe,” Zavala purrs in his ear, low and smooth and  _ hungry  _ as his fingers creep up Cayde’s neck, brushing over his mouth until he lets the plates part to admit them, “you promised me something.”   
Anyone else who tried that would find themselves bitten, but for Zavala Cayde just melts, giving the barest nod as his lover’s weight is lifted off his back and his fingers slip free to grab him by the back of the shirt and drag him back onto the floor on his knees. Cayde pulls himself up just in time for Zavala’s hand to cup his jaw, and he raises his eyes to meet Zavala’s, the blue so piercing in the low light that he finds himself captivated for a moment. He looms, broad-shouldered and powerful even without his armour, and Cayde feels his vents catch as he’s pulled up by the chin and his lover sinks onto the mattress. He reaches up, slides his hands up under Zavala’s shirt as he leans back to grab something from the drawer, and suddenly finds one wrist grabbed and pinned to the bed. He suspects it might have been both, if Zavala’s other hand wasn’t occupied.   
  
He hands him a bottle of lube and Cayde wastes no time uncapping it and tipping his head back to pour some down his throat. Banshee’s gift of knowledge had been a blessing on all of them, and he never expected to enjoy sucking cock quite as much as he does, but nobody else seems to be complaining. Zavala certainly isn’t, just leans his weight back on one hand and catches him by the horn with the other as Cayde unzips his pants. He’s already hard, straining against leather as he frees Zavala’s cock, but he doesn’t even think of touching himself when there’s those glorious sky-skinned abs to run his hands over. Zavala doesn’t give him much time to think about it either, dragging him up by the horn and pressing his cock against the hole in his cheek until he opens up and lets it slip down his throat.    
  
The angle is far from perfect and if he were human it would be choking him, but Cayde doesn’t care. They have this down to an art now, and Zavala hilts himself with one long, hard thrust. Cayde grips his hips, puts up a token resistance of squeezing and trying to draw back before he gives in and lets Zavala fuck his throat. The Awoken is relentless, thick shaft stretching Cayde’s jaw to accommodate it while his hand squeezes around his horn and holds him in an unyielding grasp that tingles with Arc and sends shivers down Cayde’s spine, makes his throat contract unpredictably and his vocaliser short out on any attempts at sound. His cock aches from it, pressed up against the inside of his pants, and it’s all he can do not to squirm and try to find something, anything to grind on.   
  
There isn’t anything, anyway. He can’t even hump Zavala’s leg like some kind of pathetic dog because he’s too far away, and he makes a glitched, desperate groan as he realises this. Zavala shudders against him, pauses for a moment before easing off as if in question. Cayde supposes it could have sounded like a noise of pain to human ears, and he reassures him by squeezing every calliper in his throat around Zavala’s cock and trying to lean into him despite the immovable hand on his horn. Zavala gasps, which is the most noise he’s made since he spoke to demand this, and drags him in to grind against his face for a few hard seconds before hauling him back, his cock sliding free. Cayde feels his head be tilted back, meets Zavala’s eyes with his mouth hanging open. He knows what he looks like; slick shine on his jaws and his lights flickering invitingly, and he knows what Zavala wants as well. Their eyes meet for a moment and Cayde gives the tiniest nod, because even when he’s being rough Zavala cares to check he’s okay.   
  
He doesn’t disappoint, sits up a little higher to loom over Cayde and takes himself in hand for the few strokes it takes to tip him over the edge. He comes with a grunt, painting glowing lines of his spend over Cayde’s face and letting it drip onto his mouth and down his chest. Cayde doesn’t even bother closing his eyes; he wants to see this, wants to see Zavala looking at him, flushed and unfocused and gorgeous. Some of the tension is gone from his shoulders but he isn’t done, and when his hand slips from Cayde’s horn to run a thumb through the mess and down his cheek Cayde leans into the touch and bites gently at the pad of it.    
  
“Not enough for you?” Zavala remarks, the words accompanied by a few little sparks under Cayde’s jaw that somehow seem to race along his wires straight to his cock. He whines, distorted and metallic, and Zavala’s smile is somewhere between fond and wicked as he drops his hand lower, curling his fist into Cayde’s shirt to pull him up onto the bed. Cayde knows for a fact that, despite his metal body, Zavala can lift him with one hand, and the reminder of that strength startles a burst of static out of him. His fans are running hot and his shirt riding up brings a welcome rush of cool air as he straddles Zavala’s thigh, the sudden friction against his crotch equally welcome. He rolls his hips and Zavala grabs his ass to still him, catches his mouth in a sudden, searing kiss and doesn’t even seem to care when the contact leaves little glowing traces across his nose and lips. He lets go only to work Cayde’s shirt off over his head, and Cayde is so far gone that he grabs Zavala’s face with both hands and drags him back into the kiss the moment the fabric is out of the way.   
  
He finds himself flipped over onto the mattress before even his highly tuned Hunter reflexes can respond, hands pinned over his head and Zavala pressed between his thighs, hard again after the brief interlude. The Awoken’s hands are big enough to hold both of his wrists, and the other hand gets put to good use all but tearing Cayde’s pants off and dragging one knee up over Zavala’s shoulder, leaving him bared and open to his gleaming gaze. The hand returns to his ass as Zavala leans over and bites at his neck, Cayde’s hip joint protesting the angle far more than the Exo would ever admit. Any discomfort is eclipsed as Zavala presses inside him though, the sparks jumping between them enough to have Cayde gasp static and clench up around him. It would be a tight fit anyway, but now it’s just on the good side of pain and Cayde arches under him, Zavala’s name breaking up in his mouth and lost to glitches and feedback.    
  
Zavala is quiet aside from his heavy breathing, hissing between his teeth as he catches cables in Cayde’s neck and rocks into him, giving him just barely enough time to adjust as he sets a punishing pace. Cayde can do nothing but cling to him and let his fans roar, pinned to the bed under his lover’s weight with fire and lightning searing through his circuits, little sparks meeting licks of flame as he tries to buck his hips to meet Zavala’s. His plating tingles where they touch and the plates part, as though he can drink in the charge through his skin, steal Zavala’s Light for his own and keep him there. It feels like the rest of him might split open as Zavala shifts him higher, drives deeper.    
  
He would take it, and beg him for more.    
  
He doesn’t have to beg, because Zavala seems to have lost that iron control that he normally carries himself with. His fingers dig in to Cayde’s ass and it hurts but it feels so good that he can barely think, and he knows there will be dents but he can’t bring himself to care. It’s hard to care about anything other than the stretch and crackle of Arc every time Zavala hilts himself inside him, how it sings in his wires and flares pleasure through him.   
  
He must still have some of that control left, Cayde thinks, because Zavala’s stamina is incredible. He holds out until Cayde is barely keeping it together himself, the Exo trembling under him with his hands curled into fists and his fans running so hard they rattle. Cayde feels his hips stutter, his rhythm broken as he grinds down into him and comes hard, lightning arcing from his hands through Cayde’s body and jolting him into his own, much louder orgasm. He arches, his vision shorting out and his voice broken by static, and he feels Zavala try to keep going, try to squeeze every last moment of pleasure from their coupling.   
  
He flags, finally loosening his grip on Cayde’s wrists and slips out of him, and Cayde feels the crackle of his Light slowly die away to something cooler and gentler as he unhooks his leg from around Zavala’s shoulder and lets the Titan sink down on top of him. He pulls him in, arms around his shoulders, and he doesn’t resist. It’s a while before he speaks, a hand coming up to trace gentle patterns over Cayde’s horn for long minutes while he finds words and they both come down from the high.   
“Are you alright?” His voice is a soft rumble, but there’s an edge of concern that warms Cayde from the inside, “I didn’t hurt you?”   
“Naah,” Cayde chuckles softly and tilts his head to nuzzle at Zavala’s forehead, all loose-limbed and content, “Couple dents maybe, nothing Sundance won’t fix. Nothing I don’t like.”   
Despite his reassurance, Zavala hums in a dissatisfied sort of way and kisses his neck, soothing over where he had bitten before and stroking over his backside to find where his fingers had left a definite impression in the metal. Cayde shifts, gently catches his hand and intertwines their fingers before bumping his mouth against Zavala’s forehead again.   
“Hey. Don’t beat yourself up for showing me a good time, huh? You feel better?”    
  
Zavala sighs, and Cayde squeezes his thighs around him gently to encourage him. “I do,” He admits, “thank you, Cayde.”   
“No no, thank  _ you _ . Seriously, you think I would fuck you if I didn’t love it?” He squeezes again, and that manages to get a quiet huff of a laugh from the Titan. That’s better. Zavala does this every time he manages to rough him up a bit, even though they both know that they both enjoy it. He appreciates it though, the concern and the fact that Zavala hasn’t stopped petting him, gentle hands checking for more serious hurts and soothing the faint, lingering sting with the Void-cool he’s now emanating. It’s nice, and Cayde can’t help but squirm a little to give him better access to touch.   
“I suppose you wouldn’t.” Zavala leans up to kiss his mouth and Cayde closes his eyes to return it as best he can, a soft hum of satisfaction from his vocaliser echoed by his fans.   
“You got time to stay for a while? Or is the sweet siren song of paperwork pulling you away?” he asks when they finally part. He doesn’t sleep much, but if anyone needs a nap and a break it’s Zavala, and he feels the Titan shift and settle against him. He’s not the best pillow in the world, but Zavala doesn’t seem to care.   
“I can stay for an hour or so, perhaps. Wake me if I go over that,” he says, and they both know that Cayde will do no such thing, but they also know that it’s exactly what he needs even if Zavala will never admit it.   
“Sure,” Cayde says anyway, because it’s all part of the game, and he lets his fingers wander loosely over Zavala’s back as his breathing slowly evens out and his hands relax, resting against Cayde’s back. It just feels right to have him there and even Cayde, twitchy Hunter that he is, can find some peace in the slow scintillation of Light just beneath the surface of his skin.   



End file.
